


1,000 Butterflies

by uxmaren651



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Eric Bittle - Freeform, Jack Zimmermann - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4334333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uxmaren651/pseuds/uxmaren651
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, when you start falling you can’t really stop it and then suddenly it’s too late; and for Jack? It was waayyy too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1,000 Butterflies

Before Jack fell asleep, it wasn’t his dad or his mom in his last thoughts, or even Shitty, or Ransom and Holster and Lardo, and it definitely wasn’t Kent fucking Parson. It was Eric Bittle, and it was precisely then he realized just how deep he had fallen. Of course, Jack knew that he had feelings for Bittle that no normal guy has for his winger, but he had been trying to ignore it. The thing is, when you start falling you can’t really stop it and then suddenly it’s too late; and for Jack? It was waayyy too late. 

Coming back from break used to feel so refreshing, like stepping into cool air from a sticky house. Now, he only felt like 1,000 butterflies had taken residence in his gut. Which he needed. For hockey. The Haus was exactly the same as it was when he left it, except he didn’t remember leaving a steaming hot pie in the kitchen. When he turned the corner, he laid eyes on a small, strawberry blonde boy, belting out Beyonce while his phone sat in the half broken speaker. Jack was pretty sure it was Beyonce, at least, he usually got that one right. He quietly set his bags down and walked into the kitchen.

“Is this apple?” Jack asked, unaccustomed to his own voice in English.

Bittle jumped, turning around mid air like he was on the ice. His face immediately lit up, dark brown eyes widening, freckles dancing on his smiling cheeks. Jack suddenly felt calm, yet he could have sworn he counted an additional 1,000 butterflies. How do they all fit in there?

“Jack!” Bittle greeted in an accent stronger than it usually was, “You’re back early, I only have one pie done!”

“That’s okay,” Jack smiled, “I need to watch my-”

“Sugar intake, yeah, yeah,” Bitty rolled his eyes, turning around to check on whatever else he had in the oven. “So, Mr. Zimmerman, how was that vacation of yours?”

“It was-” Jack paused for a moment, thinking. All he really did was play hockey, avoid his dad’s questions, play more hockey, think about Bittle, and then come home. “Good,” He finally decided, as he had played a lot of hockey, thought a lot about Bittle, and successfully avoided two out of three of his father’s serious questions. It’s the little victories.

“Good!” Bittle smiled, his expression just about as sweet as his pies. But that was normal. Or maybe it wasn’t. He would have to ask Shitty if he thought Bittle was sweet later.

———

“Fuck yeah, dude!” Shitty yelled, wrapping his arm around Jack, “Bitty’s like, the motherfucking sweetest guy- EVER. It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, begrudgingly used to Shitty’s touchy-feely-screamy attitude. He only really yelled if he was in a good mood, which he was, thus announcing their whole conversation to the Haus. Ransom and Holster, who had been walking past Shitty’s doorway to get to their own bedroom, popped their heads in. 

“Bros, I LOVE Bits!” Holster cheered, holding up a mini pie. Ransom nodded, folding his arms as if Holster just delivered a textbook definition from memory. It could’ve been, if Jack made a textbook, there would probably be a page dedicated to how great Bittle is. Or a chapter. Would I put it before or after the ten hockey chapters? And where does the history chapter go? 

After that, the guys started messing around again, so Jack retreated into his room. Over the voices of the boys next door, he could vaguely hear running water and clinging pots and pans. When Bittle finally came upstairs half an hour later, he skipped into his room and immediately began humming. Jack smiled, not absorbing any of the documentary he had been watching. He thinks it was about the French Revolution, maybe. Then, he heard Bittle talking excitedly, using the word “ya’ll” quite excessively, in Jack’s opinion. Then he stopped using the word ya’ll and Jack was a little more disappointed than he thought he’d be. 

Jack knew Eric’s twitter, but he couldn’t figure out Bitty’s blog for the life of him. “Eric Bittle blog” didn’t exactly yield too many results the first twenty times, but twenty-one times the charm, right? Then Jack remembered Bittle mentioning something about changing his “URL” since he got to Samwell. 

“Oh, lord, Jack you don’t even know what a URL is?” Bittle asked incredulously, looking to Shitty for help. Shitty just shook his head sadly. Bittle looked up at Jack, “It’s like, a house address for a website. Oh my goodness, you big, French-Canadian, hockey-playing, angel, bless your ignorance.”

Jack thought about everything new to Bittle since he arrived at Samwell. The Haus? Jack typed hopefully, only to find nothing. Samwell? No. Frogs? No. His nickname? No. Checking? Holy shit, yes. 

And so Jack spent the next two hours blasting through the cleverly titled, “Check please!” blog, where Bittle posted videos of himself sitting in his room, sharing recipes, stories, and his feelings. His feelings. His feelings for a straight boy … mentioned directly after talking about Jack… and the same day they baked their pie final together. All Jack could think about was keeping this blog a secret. It was his. 

Well, it was Bitty’s, but it was his to enjoy and not his teammate’s.At this point, there were too many butterflies to count. These were the butterflies he didn’t need to take medication for. They were golden like Bitty’s hair, and a deep brown like his eyes, wings round like his cheeks. They were an icy blue like Jack’s eyes with wings like his angled cheekbones, and best of all they all fit together perfectly, gently tickling his stomach and eyelids when he tried to sleep.

Which, he really needed to do because he had checking practice with Bitty the next morning at five. 

—————-

Jack didn’t really get that much sleep, but he was up at five walking with Bitty in the brisk morning air. Jack loved the mornings, when everything was calm and quiet even in the city, when Bitty only had enough energy to hum under his breath through his puffy cheeks. 

“Did you know that sleeping on your back is actually the best for you?” Jack asked, retreating into his shell when Bitty looked at him strangely, “Ransom told me.”

“I thought you were chirpin’ me!” Bitty retorted, yawning. “And I was like ‘Jack sleeps on his side!’”

Jack laughed at Bitty’s tired slurring. “Not this time.”

———-

The air over the ice was ever colder than the thin, windy air outside. But of course, as soon as Bitty’s music blasted through the speakers, he immediately started warm up laps. Every time they came out for checking practice, Bitty would do spins and moves Jack had never seen before so that he wouldn’t lose his figure skating skills. One time, Bitty even did a flip just because Jack insisted that he couldn’t. His face was proud and smug, but still open and sweet, just waiting for Jack to praise him.

“Ugh, you and your accent!” Bitty scoffed, while skating next to Jack. “Listen say it with me, it’s pecan.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Jack replied, trying to hide his smile, “Pecan.”

“Oh my gosh! It is not!” Bitty lectured, “Pecan. Pecan. Pecan.”

Jack laughed, nudging his shoulder quite hard into Bitty. Bitty’s serious expression slipped into a giggle, until he looked back up at Jack, whose expression must have been gooey and filled with pride.

“What?” Bitty asked, slowing down, already red cheeks heating up a little more. Jack turned and skated backwards, a crooked smile on his face.

“I just checked you,” Jack said simply, turning back around and skating away. When he turned again to look at Bitty, all he saw was a celly of sorts. It was no normal victory dance, of course, it was a full-fledged figure skating routine with some sort of thrusting and party dancing mixed in, but it was one hundred percent Bitty, and that’s what Jack loved the most about it.

————-

“Good practice today,” Jack said on the way home, his stomach growling furiously.

“Thanks,” Bitty smiled wide. On their way home, Jack noticed the tip of Bitty’s button nose turn up. 

“Do you want coffee?” Jack asked, looking to where Bitty’s head was turned.

Bitty turned his wide eyes to Jack. “Yes.” 

Bitty ran into the local coffee shop, dragging Jack behind him, only two students sat at separate tables. One of them was either dead or asleep. Bitty ordered his liquefied pumpkin pie while Jack ordered a decaf whatever with milk. Black was just too bitter, and he had enough sugar with all of Bitty’s baking. They ordered to go because Jack was way too hungry to sit there and watch Bitty drink and chatter. He threatened to carry Bitty the rest of the way home if he didn’t “hustle, come on it’s good for practice anyway”. 

They burst through the door of the Haus, glad everyone was still asleep as Bitty started on pancake batter. 

Peace can only last so long, however. This is a lesson throughout history that Jack learned in his many classes.

Ransom and Holster came tumbling down the stairs as soon as the first pancake was sizzling on the pan.

“Oh, sweet, Bitty’s making pancakes for breakfast!” Ransom cheered, a sleepy Holster practically hanging over him.

“Oh, hush ya’ll! Jack’s first!” Bitty scolded cheerfully, adding chocolate chips to Jack’s pancake while he wasn’t looking. “Go sleep on that disgusting green couch while you wait.”

Finally, Jack’s three, fluffy pancakes were done and Ransom and Holster had already fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Bittle, why are there chocolate chips in these?” Jack asked after his first bite, face full of betrayal.

“‘Cause you need a little sweetness in your life, Mr. Zimmerman.” Bitty said, continuing his own pancakes so that he could eat before Ransom and Holster woke up again.

“I’ve got plenty of that, ever since you arrived.” Jack had meant it literally, but he also meant it figuratively. 

“I can’t help that those low sugar recipes taste so darn bad!” Bitty replied, sitting next to Jack to start eating his own two pancakes. “I really tried, but Mr. Picky-I’m talkin’ about you-didn’t even like them!”

“I’m not picky,” Jack pouted. Bitty shot him a look, “Okay, I’m not that picky.”

“You so are.” Bitty replied, munching on his food. “Eating more sugar will make you feel better.”

“In that case,” Jack leaned over while Bitty’s head was at just the right angle, gently pressing their lips together. Jack wanted it to last longer, and he wanted it to be a lot more intense, but in the morning light of the kitchen with the snores of his teammate’s a room over, he decided to just let go with a small, gentle kiss. The butterflies were overflowing at this point, spilling out all over the Haus. There were so many, he was pretty sure Bitty could hear them, at the very least. 

“That’s all I’ll need for the next year.”Bitty’s cheeks were glowing red, his mouth hung slightly open. He wouldn’t be able to speak for the next five minutes, but Jack waited patiently, eating the sickeningly sweet pancakes stacked in front of him. He once again tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach, but there were too many, way more than a thousand. He had to pay attention to at least one of them, so he directed his gaze towards Bitty and let his eyes rest on his wingers face.

“Are you sure you don’t need more?” Bitty asked shyly, his cheeks somehow even more red than before. 

That was it. That was Jack’s tipping point. That’s when he noticed all the colors, even more than the golden, the icy blue, the warm browns. He saw the light pink and dark reds, he saw the dusty grain of the morning and the baby blues hidden in the shadows of the kitchen. And for the first time in his life, Jack was incredibly nervous and unsure, but it was okay and that’s exactly how he wanted it.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really like writing fanfics and I'm not very good at them, but sometimes I like to challenge myself and this fandom is on the smaller side and deserves so much more content. Thanks to Ngozi for her wonderful chars and storytelling capabilities.


End file.
